The hardest writing I’ve ever done

Today, instead of working on my blog post, I’ve been forced to write what none of us wants to write.  I’m the author in the family, so of course this painful task fell to me.  After all, writing is what I do for a living, so certainly I should be able to pull this off. But I found myself paralyzed at my keyboard, unable to summarize, in just a few paragraphs, the life of a complex, passionate woman.  Somehow, I managed it. 

I wrote my mother’s obituary.

I am drained.  Today, it’s all I have to offer.  

Jui Chiung Tom, known to friends and family as Ruby, passed away peacefully on October 16 at the Quarry Hill retirement home in Camden, Maine.  She was 85.  A native of Kunming, China, she came to the U.S. as a foreign student.  She was the first Chinese coed to ever attend Arkansas College, where her American classmates dubbed her “Ruby” because they found her Chinese name impossible to pronounce.  She planned to return to China, but the Chinese Revolution cut off her hopes of going home.  From afar, through an exchange of carefully worded letters, she learned of the hardships suffered by her parents, whose large estate in Kunming was confiscated by the government. She never saw her parents again.

 After her marriage to Ernest B. Tom, Ruby settled in San Diego, where her difficulties as an immigrant inspired her to help other Chinese immigrants.  Even while busily raising two children, she managed to earn a Master’s degree in Social Services at San Diego State University.  In 1972 she co-founded the Chinese Social Service Center, now known as the San Diego Chinese Center.  39 years later, the organization she created continues to provide social services and cultural programs for the San Diego community.

 With the re-opening of China to tourists, Ruby was finally able to visit her homeland several times, and she was delighted to meet nieces she’d never seen.  A fearless traveler, she often made bold and surprising choices in life — including a decision to get divorced after 32 years of marriage and live by her own rules.  After moving to Maine in 2008, she settled in at Quarry Hill, where the extraordinary and compassionate care of the nursing staff eased her final days.

 A private family service is planned next summer in Kunming.

 She is survived by her daughter, novelist Terry (Tess) Gerritsen of Camden, Maine, her son Dr. Timothy Tom, an anesthesiologist in Corpus Christi, Texas, and her grandsons Adam and Joshua Gerritsen, and Christopher Tom.  In lieu of flowers, the family would deeply appreciate donations to the American Heart Association:

 http://honor.americanheart.org/goto/Ruby.Tom

45 thoughts on “The hardest writing I’ve ever done”

  4. david delee

    Tess, I am so sorry for your loss. My prayers to you and your family during this very difficult time. Your mom sounds like an amazing woman.

    David DeLee

  10. MJ

    I'm sorry, Tess. What an amazing life she had, and you tell her story so well. You did a wonderful job.

  11. Louise Ure

    Tess, that's a beautiful picture, a beautiful obituary and a beautiful life.

    I had to do the same for my husband a year and a half ago, and I know how deeply this particular scalpel can cut.

  13. JT Ellison

    Tess, you've done an absolutely beautiful job with this. I'm so sorry for your loss. Please know that all of us are with you during this difficult time. Your mother sounds like an absolutely extraordinary woman, one that I know you are very much like.

  17. Stephen Jay Schwartz

    I'm thinking of you today, Tess. Your mother sounds like an amazing woman. So sorry for your loss.

  19. Allison Davis

    Tess, vry moving. Losing your mother is one of the hardest events to survive…I still have pain from losing my mom. No matter how old, no matter what the circumstances, in most cases, yor mom is the one person in the world who loves you fiercely and unconditionally. And she sounds so strong, and was beautiful. To be exiled from her own country and her parents must have been devasting to her and she did so well with her own family. Thanks for sharing with us.

  20. Jake Nantz

    Very moving, and while I have no idea whether you captured what you meant to about your mother, I can honestly say your writing and the portrayal of your mother were captivating. I hope that's comfort enough. God bless.

  26. Barbie

    You look soooo much like her, you know that. I'm truly sorry for your loss, I can't even imagine. My heart goes out to you. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers, Tess.

  27. Reine

    Tess, this must have been so very hard for you to write . . . it is a beautiful tribute to your mother and your family. You all are in my heart.

  28. Jeanne in MN

    I am so sorry for your loss.

    I don't think most of us give our immigrant ancestors enough thought. I cannot imagine leaving your home, never to return, to live in another country with a different language, different customs, different food. Of course, your mother did not know when she came over that she would never see her parents again. How hard that must have been for her. She sounds like an extraordinary woman.

  30. Erin

    Tess, sorry for loss. That is a beautiful picture and obituary. I will keep you and your family in my prayers.

  35. lil Gluckstern

    I'm so sorry for your loss. What a remarkable woman she was, and I, too, can see you in her. This was a beautiful tribute for and from a lovely lady.

  37. KDJames

    My dad once told me that when his sister died, his favourite sister, the one he was closest to in age and with whom he had the most in common, he was so devastated that even though people asked him to he couldn't think clearly enough to write a eulogy. He told about how excruciating it was, sitting through her funeral, listening to some graceless inarticulate stranger talk about her. My dad was, among other things, a talented writer and he said he never forgave himself for not writing that eulogy, for not doing that one simple thing to honour the memory of his sister.

    That confession stayed with me. And years later, when my dad died, as painfully impossible as it was, I sat down with my older sister and we wrote his eulogy. And then we stood up together in front of a large faceless crowd and we delivered it. There are no words for how hard that was.

    You did it beautifully, Tess. I think your mother would be proud.

    I hope the searing grief is soon replaced with peaceful loving memories.

  38. Cornelia Read

    Oh, Tess. That is beautiful, beautiful writing about a beautiful woman. I am so very sorry to hear your sad news, but you have honored your mother deeply with this, and I am so glad to have learned about her from your post.

    My heart goes out to you and your family in this time of sadness.

  40. David Corbett

    Tess, late condolences from me as well. There is nothing like the staggering silence of death, the empty want, the gutting realization that your loved one has simply vanished. The mind and heart, which plan forward with such determination keep banging into that wall: She's gone. She will never come back. It feels like a kind of madness. My heart goes out to you, and as you no doubt already know, it's wise to be close to loved ones, except in those moments when solitude calls. For death is the perfection of our solitude, our loneliness, and there will be moments when you will need to sit with it, befriend it, to better understand. But in the end, be happy. Your mother would want nothing more than that, now that the drag and pain are over, she would want nothing for you but brilliance and laughter and love. Don't deprive yourself of this. Someday it will be easier, not soon, but someday.

    David

  41. David Corbett

    Tess, late condolences from me as well. There is nothing like the staggering silence of death, the empty want, the gutting realization that your loved one has simply vanished. The mind and heart, which plan forward with such determination keep banging into that wall: She's gone. She will never come back. It feels like a kind of madness. My heart goes out to you, and as you no doubt already know, it's wise to be close to loved ones, except in those moments when solitude calls. For death is the perfection of our solitude, our loneliness, and there will be moments when you will need to sit with it, befriend it, to better understand. But in the end, be happy. Your mother would want nothing more than that, now that the drag and pain are over, she would want nothing for you but brilliance and laughter and love. Don't deprive yourself of this. Someday it will be easier, not soon, but someday.

    David

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